Current Picture of MK

Day 11: A Photo of Me Taken Recently



What is your definition of recently? I fudged on the 10 years ago photo so I guess I will fudge on the "recently" photo.

Chad captured this moment when I obviously didn't know. I have on no make up, my hair is a mess, and I am wearing an ugly shirt. Rylee (who is about four months in this picture) is not in a super cute outfit and she has the paci in her mouth. If I had known Chad was going to take a picture, I would have put a stop to it. I am so glad I didn't know.

I love this picture. I was exhausted and apparently so was she. I was back at work but still nursing in the middle of the night so me dozing when she did was common.

Poor Z, the first born, was not allowed many opportunities like these little naps. "If you rock them to sleep or let them fall asleep in your arms, they will never learn to sleep on their own!" Oh sweet boy I am sorry for both of us that I felt compelled to listen to that advice and put you in your crib at the first sign you were tired. We both missed out my little love. (As a side note - Z does sleep a heck of a lot better than Rylee -- personality or early formed sleep habits? Hmmmm)

When I look at this picture, I can still feel the warmth of her head against my cheek. I feel the soft almost velvetness of her hair on my skin. I feel her little back rising and falling with each breath. I hear the little sighs and binkie noises that come with babies sleeping. Beautiful little one.

MK Ten Years Ago

Day 10: A Photo of Me Taken Over Ten Years Ago

I am cheating just a hair on this one. Technically this photo is 9 years, 7 months, and four days old but I am saying it is close enough - it will be 10 years August 25, 2011.

This picture captures one of the most amazing days of my life. I smiled like that ALL day long. It was more than “I was a bride” or “I felt like a princess” or the most annoying phrase “It’s MY day” (really? Is there not someone else involved????) I was so excited, overjoyed, thrilled, and stunned that I was lucky enough to marry Chad. I still have days where I wake up with the same feeling – how is it that God picked me out of everyone else to get to be married to Chad???!

God was there too. It was practically tangible – like I could reach out and touch Him or feel His embrace. He was present at our wedding. I remember standing by myself while my parents went to light the unity candle and waiting for my grand entrance, listening to Ave Maria and staring out at the fountain. My heart beating out of my chest – not from nerves but from utter happiness. It was in this moment I first felt Him. He was so close filling me with peace and hope and I could feel Him smiling as if He were just as excited as I was.

Be skeptical or say I am crazy – I frankly don’t care. He was there for Chad and me. He walked with me – He joined us together – He was there.

I work with some people that are not particularly fond of their spouses most days. I get teased quite a bit for having a fairy tale husband. It really grates on my nerves. I do think I may lose it one day and tell them “sorry their lives suck and yes I have a fantastic husband so neener neener neener – I am not going to feel bad about it.”

My husband is loving, thoughtful, creative, generous, sensitive, and smart. He also can be terse, moody, smug, and impatient. As a whole person he is beautiful and amazing – I love the whole entire package. I see the good and not as good in him and love him even more. Is he perfect – HELL NO – but he is most certainly without a doubt perfect for me.

Ten years ago, I would say we were the yin and yang – fitting snugly together like puzzle pieces with our strengths and weaknesses complimenting each other. As we have grown and changed over the last decade, the division lines have changed in our little yin/yang circle and it is slowly changing to gray. Not meaning we are one person – not at all but that we have learned to support and help each other more seamlessly. We are also more flexible and fluid in our relationship and have learned from our experiences.

I can not believe it has been 10 years. A decade. A wonderful, fascinating, and enlightening decade. Crazy how it feels tonight. Crazy how you make it alright love. With each moment the more I love you.

A Shiner Sounds Good Right About Now

I travel for work. I am gone usually about five weeks of the year split across the twelve months. It really isn’t too bad – other than the self-induced guilt I feel for leaving my ultra supportive husband and two sweet innocent children.

Life before this job was worse – I traveled probably 50% of the time. I could be on the road five weeks at a time only coming home on weekends to do laundry and fly out again. One time in what can only be described as utter absurdity, I was planning a show in Vegas and another client asked me to manage their show which was just a few days later in the same venue. I had already booked my travel for the first show so I investigated changing my hotel and flight for the second. It turned out it was cheaper to actually fly home and book a second ticket. So I flew home from the first show on Tuesday and turned around on Wednesday and flew back to Vegas and checked into the same hotel I checked out of the day before. Almost comical.

WOW – that was quite a tangent. Now back to our story. Being in the trade show business there is this phrase tossed around – “Code of the Road.” Essentially meaning “What happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas.” I hate it. I know I am uptight but this goes beyond my uptightness. The way some of my colleagues behave on the road is embarrassing and disgusting. Am I judging? Absolutely. Just because you are on a trip for business without your spouse doesn’t mean your marriage vows don’t count. Just because the company is picking up the tab doesn’t mean you have to drink yourself to oblivion and be unable to function the next day at your JOB! I bring this up because it seems to be an expectation that we (those in the trade show business) go out and party while at a show.

I have just returned from 8 days on the road. Most of the staff went out on Friday to celebrate getting our show open but I chose not too. Chad asked me if I was the only fuddy duddy on the trip – for the record I was not. I didn’t go because I was spent. The week before I left, I worked long days and then at the show my days were generally 10 to 12 hrs long. At dinner (which was at 8pm after starting work at 7am), trying to psych myself up for going out so I wouldn’t be a killjoy, I found myself on the verge of tears. I wasn’t fighting back tears because something was wrong or my feelings were hurt. I was just tired. I could not dig deep enough to find the energy to go to the bar with the staff. I hated it but I just couldn’t.

One of our vendors confronted me. “Why don’t you drink? You never drink. Why don’t you ever drink?” I have to say I was stunned, pissed, and unsure of how to respond. I mumbled “I drink but I am just tired.” I sounded like some high school student trying to deflect peer pressure instead of replying with something like “what a crappy intrusive inaccurate ignorant question to ask jackass!” I was seething after that – what if I was an alcoholic? What if I had a medical issue? It wasn’t any of his freaking business.

But my beloved husband always helps me process. He pointed out that perhaps my over reaction to the question was because maybe the vendor hit too close to home. Chad said that while saying I never drink is not true – saying I rarely drink is completely accurate.

My first thought in my head after Chad’s statement was defensive – recalling a situation that happened in January at my last show where I did drink at the staff dinner and although I did not get drunk I still ended up throwing up in the sink (classy right?!) in my hotel room the next morning while trying to pack to head to the airport. Then as if I am being punished for my poor choice the evening before, I have to sit next to our director of HR on the flight home. She looked at me and said that I didn’t look well and maybe I was catching something. I tried to eat a bagel to keep my stomach in check but could only take one bite for fear of getting sick again. I passed out as soon as the flight took off – apparently another concerning fact for our HR director. It took me until nearly dinner time for my headache to go away.

I let this swirl and swish in my brain – rarely drinking – what is my deal? I am not against drinking (heck I am an Irish Catholic – I don’t know life without it!) and we have alcohol in the house. I have more than enough stupid drunk MK stories and if you slip Leigh Anne a $20 she will share them. But Chad is right – rarely do I have a beer with dinner or drink a cocktail. I have my business social drink – cranberry and vodka – that I will nurse all through the event/dinner/party. It is not very often that I will drink to a buzz and even rarer that I will get drunk.

I have been self analyzing and come up with this – 15% of my issue is functioning the next day and 85% of my issue is control.

The Next Day: On the road, I think this is completely understandable. I usually have to be on the floor by 7am the next day and being hung over is not fun. Even when I drink just a little, I usually drag and have a dull headache the next day so put that on top of tired makes for a crabby MK. Even at home, the idea of my children waking me up early keeps me sober.

Control: I think I have a need to be in completely control. I don’t know when this happened. Early in my career I would drink on the road – I even was one of those that showed up to work still buzzing from the night before (not proud of that mind you!) and now the thought of that horrifies me. Is it years in this industry that have jaded me? Is it watching people I respect make total idiots of themselves in front of employees and customers? Is it seeing a married person make out with someone they are not married to? Is it that I am too old? Do I not trust myself to keep from looking like a moron? While I can’t identify exactly what it is (I am sure Chad has an interesting take on this) I do know it is about control.

And those that say peer pressure to drink only happens in high school are full of crap. The pressure to drink while on a trip for me is unrelenting. Except now I think I have said no so often I may have actually beaten them down. That is until I get the question – Why don’t you drink? There is that moment where I want to show them I know how to do a shot or slam a beer. And then I think about what time I have to get up the next morning and politely decline.

An MK Pet Peeve

Day 9: Pet Peeves

I remember some where along the way hearing that the things that annoy you the most in others is usually a trait you possess. As I have grown older and met more people, I find that statement to be more true than not. I think this is why my mom and I will have tension in a visit – what bugs me about her turns out to be something that I actually do too and then I get even more annoyed. Sick little cycle in our relationship. I fear the same will be happen between Rylee and me unless she is able to break the pattern. Considering she loves pink, tutus, and sparkles, there may be some hope of that.

Chad, while being the most perfect husband for me, does possess habits and quirks that may not always gel with my mood. However, I have to put it in perspective – I do crap all the time that even I find annoying, so to even point out something he may do that I might find slightly irritating seems a bit hypocritical. The fact that he has not called me out on some stuff I do – leaving shoes everywhere, leaving half folded clean laundry on the couch or on a chair for the whole week, talking to him when he is trying to read, shedding hair in our bathroom, letting the kids eat dessert when they clearly have not eaten their dinner, etc – is shocking. He may go mental one day and explode when I ask – “have you seen my keys? I swear I left them in my purse.” Knowing that my list of maddening habits is a mile long, how can I in good conscience ask him to please put dirty dishes in the left side of the sink and not the right side with the disposal? (He already knows this one – not a passive aggressive message here!)

Why this very typical long introduction? Because when selecting a pet peeve to discuss, I didn’t want to make it something that my children will read and say – “ummm Mom – you do this all the time.”

So what can really set me off that I know 100% I do not do – flick cigarette butts. I do not get why people throw their cigarette butts on the ground or flick them out their car window. Completely unnecessary! Most people would never even consider throwing their McDonalds’ wrappers on the road or dropping their empty Starbucks cup on the ground but a cigarette butt is tossed without a care. While I understand the cigarette might still be hot – too bad! You decided to smoke then figure out a way to deal with it until it is cool enough to toss in the trash.

Please understand that while I am not a fan of smoking, and in all honesty probably not a very tolerant person of smoking, I am not writing a tirade about smoking. Some of the people dearest in my life are smokers and while I am not crazy about the smoke, I love the people with all my heart. I even asked one such sweet smoker why the littering. She couldn’t answer. She agreed it is littering and she said she makes every effort to dispose of it properly but she doesn’t always get that chance.

When I am driving and I see someone flick their butt out their window, I (in a very nerdy/goofy move) mentally fling that butt back into their car. As if I had some magic power to move objects, I stuff that butt back into their lap and make them jump like a hot potato.

Spending time and energy on something I can’t control seems a bit ridiculous. I mean I can get truly bent out of shape and go postal when I see the butt flick. But isn’t that kind of what a pet peeve is– something you can not control that just crawls under your skin and gnaws at you. Irritating isn’t it?

QPM? or Parent's Priviledge?

It is another day of firsts. Zachary got his first fillings at the dentist.
It has always struck me how empty the place is. They've got this perfectly good lobby chock full of amenities going to waste. Slow day maybe? After several trips there, I've found that it is always that way. Maybe business isn't that great? I started to realize that I am one of the few parents that doesn't go back with their kid. I guess it makes sense- the Plano helicopter moms hovering over their children while every molar is checked. I do it too in other venues; but not during novacaine shots? So- let the guilt pile on... the cold-hearted daddy leaves his kid to find his own way in the pediatric dental world. Did I mention it was his first day to face the drill?
Then again- maybe not.
Z has always gone back there on his own. I think he takes pride in the fact that this is one big kid thing he owns and has to himself. I did ask several times if he wanted me to go... to which he replied, "No, Daddy; I can do this." I am proud of him- all the nurses kept calling him a trooper. He never once complained or griped.

Oh by the way- the nurse kept coming back to give me updates every so often (perhaps perplexed that she couldn't do the play-by play on the scene?!)
So- I will happily sit back and enjoy the custom coffee bar... somebody has to, right?

Something MK Craves

DAY 8: Something I Crave

I crave playing soccer. Let me clarify - I crave playing soccer well.

Craving to me usually creates images of ice cream or affection or attention. But when I truly thought about it I realized I don't just miss playing soccer -- I crave it.

I started playing soccer in the fall of 1978 on the Honey Bears. From that time until we moved to Kansas City almost every Saturday in the spring and fall required a trip out to Indian Springs Sports Complex. It was next to the Arkansas river and made for some cold games. But even today on sunny days that are just on the side of cool with some humidity in the air make me thing -- perfect soccer weather.

I played during college and grad school and even joined a team when I moved to the metroplex. At one point here in the Metroplex, I was playing on four teams at one time - one outdoor competitive, one indoor competitive, one indoor over 30 non-competitive, and an indoor co-ed competitive.

When I got pregnant with Zachary, I played until I was four months along and then took a hiatus. I didn't know that would be the beginning of the end of my nearly 30 years of playing soccer. I went back to soccer nearly a year after Z was born and I sucked so very very bad.

I must back up a little bit to add this information. While I played soccer for many MANY years and had some very amazing coaches, I never have possessed the natural ability of some of my teammates. I always justified it that what I lack in skill I make up for in passion. So while I could hold my own on the field, I was not the player that drew all the attention and I was fine with it.

So back to the "I sucked" comment -- I mean I REALLY sucked. In my brain, I knew what to do but the time it took for the command to travel from my brain to my foot was so long that I would miss the ball or not turn quick enough. It was mentally and emotionally painful. To be sooo bad at something I loved so much was too much to handle. I quit for good at the end of the season. I haven't played since.

Chad has asked about me going back and has gently encouraged me to find a team. And I miss it!! I CRAVE it but I don't want to go back and not connect with the ball or make stupid mistakes just because my body is not listening quick enough. Did I give up too soon? I think Chad believes so but I also don't think people understand how humiliating it is fall on your face at something you are so passionate about with no real hope of ever being where you were. Leave them as the glory days and not pull a Brett Favre.

But I have to say that I really do crave it. I want the high of playing. I think the longing is stronger these day with Zachary playing. He has a coach doing real drills and teaching real skills. I love going to the field on Saturdays and I am acutely aware of how much I miss playing.

Will I ever go back? Satisfy that craving? If Z keeps playing, I may find myself testing the waters but if he decides not to play I may continue to live in denial and deprivation. That is until Rylee is old enough to play.

MK's Favorite Photo

DAY 7: Favorite Photo


I knew immediately which photo I wanted to use but in searching the many boxes for it (had to scan it in) I came across a few others to share.


There is a part of me that feels I should actually be posting a picture of Chad (one of my favorites is Chad and his puppy Gretchen -- Chad knows the one) or perhaps one of my children but I love so many pictures of them and couldn't possibly narrow it down.


Instead I am posting a picture of my dad. For my 21st birthday, my father gave me an album he put together of pictures of him through the ages. Starting with his baptism through my high school years. He labeled each picture with a number and provided a guide with the album that described what was going on in the photo. It is a treasured gift.


It holds the following pictures:


My Mom at the piano in 1969 -



My Dad's OCS Graduation Photo in December 1963 -


My Dad getting ready to make his last jump in the Army - Kontum, Vietnam Jan or Feb 1967 -
-


My favorite though is this shot of him taken in Okinawa December 1964 - he had just returned from his first tour in Vietnam -




I am so very proud of my father and his service in the military -
I Love You Dad and Thank You

He was a Special Forces Green Beret and his lone tattoo is the parachute airborne symbol on his upper arm. It is faded and blue now but it always reminds me of how important the military was to him. I look at this picture and think he looks like a total bad-ass!


So I am picking a picture that fills me with pride, love, and a little awe and know that is how my father will love to be remembered.